ALL IS RIGHT AT WRIGLEY AGAIN

This is a digitized version of an article from The Times’s print archive, before the start of online publication in 1996.
To preserve these articles as they originally appeared, The Times does not alter, edit or update them.

Occasionally the digitization process introduces transcription errors or other problems.
Please send reports of such problems to archive_feedback@nytimes.com.

For nearly two months, the faithful at Wrigley Field rose for the seventh-inning stretch and turned west to an empty window in the broadcasting booth and sang, ''Take Me Out to the Ball Game.'' At Wrigley Field, the baseball pious often sway to the tune.

For the last several years, a tradition had been built with Harry Caray, the Cubs' broadcaster. He had leaned out of that window, holding a long silver microphone like a baton, and urged the congregation, ''Now let's hear yah! Ah-one, ah-two, ah-three, Take me out to the ball game, take me out with the crowd. . . .''

But for almost two months there was no Harry Caray in that window. The fans had no lead but a recording of Caray crooning that baseball staple.

Caray, at age 70, had suffered a stroke in February. But today, for the first time since his illness, he was back, being cheered like mad, and warbling as of old.

''No,'' he said earlier, ''I didn't practice singing. I don't wanna get on key.''

Caray had returned from his home in Palm Springs, Calif., to Wrigley Field to work a game. ''The new Harry Caray,'' as he described himself. He had lost 41 pounds during his illness and rehabilitation, and ate less and drank a great deal less, and went from 229 pounds to 188.

His doctor told him he had to stay that way. No more late-night drinking bouts, he said, no more late-night eating binges. The self-proclaimed Mayor of Rush Street, a center for Chicago night life, will spend more time resting. Oh, perhaps there will be nights when a bus driver as in days of yore will stop the bus in the middle of the street, ask Caray to board, and then Caray will go through shaking hands with the passengers and exit in the rear.

But Caray, the broadcaster of the people, will surely one day again be out in the bleachers on afternoons for a few innings, calling the game from among the fans, his gravelly voice competing against the wind in the microphone, as he tries to snatch his flying papers and notes.

Though his girth has shrunk, his hair is still white, his glasses thick, his laugh ready, his effervescence fresh, his salesmanship sharp. He is still selling his product - baseball and the Cubs - and still selling himself, as he has done for the last 44 years, as a broadcaster for the Cardinals, the A's, the White Sox, and, from 1982, the Cubs. Voice Carries Far

He was a nationally known figure even before the station on which he now broadcasts the Cubs, WGN, became a superstation, and so is regularly watched and listened to in most of the states of the union, and Russia. (Caray once got a letter in broken English from a Russian who had devised some kind of satellite dish.) Stepping onto the playing field a few hours before the game, Caray breathed deeply. ''It looks beautiful,'' he said. ''The green grass, the ivy-colored walls - it's baseball the way it's meant to be played.''

A vendor called out, ''We missed ya, Harry, the whole town missed ya.''

Indeed, there were billboards on the expressways here that stated the prevailing sentiment: ''Hurry Back, Harry.''

''It's strange,'' Caray said, ''but all through my career I've been criticized for wishing people a speedy recovery, or saying hello to this one or that. Well, now I was at the other end. I couldn't move my leg, I couldn't move my arm, I couldn't control my speech. And then I got boxes of mail, expressions of love in letters and flowers from people I didn't know, and it breathed a little more hope into me.''

There had been a threat of rain, but the sun was shining for Caray, and for the expected near-full house of some 35,000 for senior citizen's day, and for the special senior citizen in the broadcasting booth.

Caray tapped Rick Sutcliffe on the back. Sutcliffe looked up, took off his earphones and stood up, with a slightly moist look in his eyes.

''I'll be as nervous as you are today,'' said the pitcher.

''I was hoping to just slip quietly into the booth and go to work,'' said Caray, ''but, gee, there's been so much hype.''

''Holy cow!'' said Billy Williams, the batting coach, upon spying Caray. ''We got everybody now.'' ''I'm half the man I used to be,'' said Caray, patting his flatter stomach. ''Looks great,'' said Williams. On the air, Caray told his sidekick, the former pitcher Steve Stone, that, in his absence, ''you really did me proud.'' Stone had helped a battery of celebrities, from the comedian Bill Murray to the columnists George Will and Mike Royko, who filled in for Caray.

''Just keeping the seat warm, waiting for today,'' Stone told Caray.

After the Reds came to bat in the first half inning, Stone said, ''There's a special phone call for you.''

''Hello, Harry, this is Ronald Reagan.'' The President was calling to wish Caray well. ''I'm a little familiar with Wrigley Field,'' said the former sportscaster. ''I broadcast a lot of ball games there.'' Sharing the Booth

Caray recalled the time when Reagan shared the booth with him in St. Louis when Reagan played Grover Cleveland Alexander in the movie ''The Winning Team.''

The President said he remembered, and said, ''Well, I know you've got to get back to the ball game, but I just wanted to say, even though there were a lot of big-name celebrities substituting for you, there's nothing like the real thing.''

''Thank you, Mr. President, and bye-bye.'' ''Bye-bye.'' Then Caray, in his familiar modulated excitement, said, ''In all the excitement, Bobby Dernier is on first after having beat out a bunt!''

Someone walked past a television monitor and asked, ''Does it sound like Harry?''

''Just like him,'' came the reply. ''Just like him.'' THE VOICE OF THE CUBS ''Harry Caray from Wrigley Field inviting you to stay tuned.'' * * * ''Holy Cow!'' -No, he says, Phil Rizzuto was not the first to use this phrase. (''If he was, then he must have whispered it to his second baseman, Gerry Priddy.'') * * * ''He POPPED it up!'' - Derisively. * * * ''There's Andres Galarraga. Spelled backwards it's A-G-A-R-R-A-L-A-G.'' - He has a knack and propensity for spelling names backward at the drop of a syllable. * * * ''The pendulum of percentages swings to the home team.'' - When the home team comes to bat in the bottom of the ninth inning with the game tied. * * * ''Jo-DEE, Jo-DEE Davis.'' - To the tune of Da-VEE, Da-VEE Crockett. * * * ''Too big to be a man, too small to be a horse.'' - On a large player, like Dave Parker. * * * ''cubs win, Cubs Win, CUBS WIN.'' - On those special days, victory, at the last out, invariably comes in triplicate.

A version of this article appears in print on May 20, 1987, on Page D00027 of the National edition with the headline: ALL IS RIGHT AT WRIGLEY AGAIN. Order Reprints|Today's Paper|Subscribe